Memoirs of a Serial Killer
by Indigo Avarice
Summary: While in his cell in Los Angeles, Beyond Birthday answers a few of the questions that people have always asked about the nature of his crimes, and what his relation to L really was.


It's not like I hate L.

This is a common misconception, and every time I hear it I wonder...where did they get that idea from? And yet I suppose that, in some sadistic sense of being, I can see where people get the notion.

Are you a little lost now? Perhaps you are.

Hello. I am B.

I'm not here to tell you about my crimes. I do realize that they are quite the wonder, and maybe hearing it out of the horses' mouth, so to speak, would put a few people at rest on a few questions that they still may have about what I did and why I did it. I'm not here to talk about my justification or motivations, although I suppose that what I _am_ here for could be seen as a little bit of both.

I am here to talk about L.

L. L. L.

What a letter. What a name. What a man.

Since I was young, I was taught to idolize him and his works. I was taught to live L, breathe L, _**B**_e L.

B. Backup. Beyond Birthday. B.

The closest thing they ever got to an 'L clone'. The closest they ever got to recreating genius. And yet, the problem with prototypes is that no one expects them to succeed. No one expects them to exist and be, and be useful and important.

Why is it, then, that I was such the perfect replica?

Perhaps this question is one that is better left unanswered.

And it isn't the reason that I'm here, talking to you. The reason I'm here is to clear up one, tiny fact.

I do not hate L.

I _love_ L. I obsess over L. I _want_ L.

We only met but a handful of times, before I went on to my life of crime. He was always friendly to me, not much older than I. He treated me with an odd sort of monotone kindness, flat but distinguishable. L.

The letter annoys me these days. Vertical and horizontal. You can find it everywhere. The walls of the cell. The tiles on the floor. L. L. L. L. L.

I met him. We met. We saw. We spoke.

Another common misconception is that L and I (by I, I mean "B" or "me) were not known to each other on a personal level. It is not like we were not introduced to L. A, Me, C, and D all met him, conversed with him. We knew him. It was, perhaps, the pressure of actually knowing the face that he had to live up to that shattered A's mentality so.

Suicide is such a fickle thing. I saw it coming. Of course, I had always figured he would die in some sort of accident. Suicide. Such a terrible way to go.

C and D. Two topics I wish not to cross into, although I will touch on them briefly. C loved marshmallows. D deserved what he ended up getting, which was a painful death. C is still alive, she will not die until her 40th birthday. She will take all the beauty in the world with her.

C. The only pure human alive. C understood what made me tick. C was the only human company that I miss. C. C. C...

I knew L.

I do not hate him.

I merely wished to create for him an unsolvable case. To prove that I was better. To prove that B could outsmart L. That is what I wanted.

I wanted to be acknowledged. That's all.

You have no idea how difficult it was. How difficult it _is._ Living in the shadow of greatness...

It stings. It stung A to the point of taking his own life, it stung C to the brink of insanity, it stung D to the point of being totally void of all feeling for anything in the world. It stung me to the point of wanting to top L. Wanting to beat him. Wanting to win.

And I did.

But to say that this drive made me hate L, this would be to an extreme. No...L was, to me, the father that I never got to know. He was a figure that I could build my movements on, he was an anchor that I could trust to exist.

There were only ever two people in the world that I was stupid enough to let my guard down for: L and C. L, because of the reasons I just described, and C because she was so accepting of me. My odd manner of never getting too close to anyone didn't seem to faze her, and when I explained my unique ability to see death, she didn't deny the existence of such a force. She welcomed me with open arms. She was more closed off from humanity than I was, less trusting of others. She was more damaged than I, and for some reason I believe that this drew me and her closer as friends.

She is the only person who has paid me a visit in this confinement of mine.

But C is not the topic of our discussion.

I strove to be more like L, and the more I strove, the more I realized that I would never get the chance to succeed him. That was when I decided that I had to beat him. That's when I started to think.

I started to formulate the perfect crime. One where the perpetrator would die as well, one in which there would be no way to discover the truth...the perfect crime.

There were a few factors that I didn't consider. And one of those factors was that L would employ such a good pair of ground eyes.

Naomi Misora.

My dance with Miss Naomi was rather...intriguing. I have never in my life met someone so...observant yet stupid. I will admit, she gave me a run for my money...but in the end, it wasn't her that I was intent on beating...it was L.

I wanted to beat L.

And I did.

No matter what anyone else may say, I still count my case as the one that L could not solve. Just because I was caught and brought to justice...this does not mean that I lost. Just because I'm in this cell...does not mean that I didn't create the world's most challenging case for L.

I once told Naomi Misora that I don't even yield to traffic signals. This remains true to this very day, and I will never yield to L. I still won. I created a case that L could not solve. It took a very observant woman, and my own mistakes, to get me caught.

In the end, it was still the way I wanted it to be....

LABB.

L.  
After.  
Beyond.  
Birthday.


End file.
